Day –234 : (07/01/2024)
No need to search for a prologue venue this year, one of the “core four” now resides in Harrogate.
An excursion to the Dales beckons, the first since Settle in 2011, and fresh home from his New Year holiday PrH has already booked the Masham accommodation, obsession satisfied.
For Now.
Day –86 : (07/06/2024)
The draft of the route has been shared and vaguely agreed.
Day - 1 : Doubt
After a year of doubt, viz. closing comments in Rioja ’24,this was the time to find out whether my career on tour was at an end.
Failure to stay the course in Yorkshire would see me hang up my panniers for good, but better to find out in the cosy confines of Yorkshire than on the first day in Tuscany.
Accordingly, my mood was one of Que Sera rather than the previous foreboding.
Day 0 : Harrogate
The rail workers' industrial action ensured that my leisurely train journey North became a six-hour drive.
The M25 was so bad I had to endure the South and North Circular Roads (if anywhere on the planet would benefit from a small atomic ground strike it is the Hanger Lane gyratory) before escaping London’s gravity and crawling through the asteroid (more like haemorrhoid) belt of the A1 summer roadworks.
Following a journey as excruciating as my previous sentence I had arrived and a restorative pint or two in the Gardners Arms prove to be the welcome antodote
Equilibrium restored and holiday mood encroaching, it was time to grab a bus into Harrogate centre for a restrained night out and to rekindle my appreciation of one of my favourite English towns.
Apologies, that's it for photos of Harrogate.
Day 1 : Masham
The acid test dawns, but first an essential cooked breakfast is prepared by our host.
A beautiful morning saw us set off along an old railway track, the Nidderdale Greenway and I dropped into the rhythm of the peloton.
Following a bit of cycleway zigging and zagging we were beyond Ripley and onto the open road, undulating our way to Pateley Bridge.
By the time we arrived for morning coffee, my cycle confidence was returning, my legs and lungs were not failing me and enhancing the glow was the enchanting Yorkshire countryside and the stone-built warmth of its farms and villages.
Another self-affirming trundle up Nidderdale past Gouthwaite Reservoir led to lunch on the terrace at Lofthouse – preparation for the test of the tour, the Cote de Lofthouse.
Despite a bit of early gear-wrangling, I settled into the climb and kept with the pack to enjoy a few snaps at the top.
The rest of the ride was a satisfying downhill into Masham in time to catch the back end of market day and a bit of its sunlit buzz, equally satisfying.
Adventure however was not to be found, the earlier buzz had evaporated and we found the village disconcertingly deserted, an antique Stepford.
The Kings Head, a fine old coaching Inn where we had drunk earlier, blazed in the dark but looking in through the windows its attraction was diminished by the lack of life.
Continuing around the market square we alighted in the somewhat characterless but reassuringly busy Bruce Arms where, in days gone by, we would have propped the bar up until it closed.
Not tonight, one pint later we returned to base and the evening was over, three old men retired for the night, and the other had skulked off even earlier.
Day 2 : Harrogate and Home
Another cooked breakfast and a grey damp morning blessed our departure, but the route would be straightforward enough with the added attraction of a stop in Ripon along the way.
The potential for rain kept us focussed on the cycling and as is always the case the last day is always something of a dog day – a perfunctory cycle back to base compounded with another few hours of driving.
However, we did stop off in Ripon for tea and buns (Wilfrid’s Café – v. good) if not any appreciation of its buildings and history...
and Langthorpe (Fox and Hounds – also v. good) for lunch.
Heading back to Harrogate, local knowledge contributed a scenic wiggle through Knaresborough and a final restful leg along cycle track and lane with a nod to the Gardeners Arms.
So, grey but with sunny intervals.
Post Tour
A few reflections.
The first being that, despite feeling under-par, I kept up with the pack and could thus rate my body fit for purpose for the Tuscan tour to come.
More than a modicum of relief on that count.
Beyond that, I’m annoyed that I didn’t take more photos whilst on the road, this became apparent when editing down the combined haul of snaps taken.
I blame myself for this, it was something I used to do when I was (regularly) dropped from the peloton, but now my childish wish to be part of the gang has overridden the creation of future reminiscences.
This has left us and our sizeable fanbase short of magnificent vistas and long on PrH’s pictures of bathrooms and vegan Sunday roasts.
Hey.
Bob Oct. 2024